Elysium
by Cath1
Summary: What do you think happens at the end? you ask. Series five spoilers. TM


Title: Elysium

Author: Cath

Disclaimer: Characters, etc, do not belong to me. If they did, all would be well in the T&M camp.

Summary: "What do you think happens at the end?" you ask. Series five spoilers. T/M.

Notes: The plot bunnies made me write this. I apologise on their behalf. Please let me know if you enjoyed: I'm incredibly anxious every time I post something new and so am always appreciative of feedback.

* * *

You die less than six months after her.

A case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time: nothing to do with who you are or who you were. It's the story of a grocery store, two guys with guns, an off-duty police officer, a sales assistant and you.

The events cannot be made into a coherent narrative in your mind. A bullet races through your aorta, your heart keeps on pumping, blood seeps unbidden into every crevice in your body.

You are not afraid of death.

The pain of living both physical and emotional since the accident has lessened your motivation to fight. You do not struggle against the inevitable as much as you once would have.

Regardless, it is simply your time.

And as you lie there the cacophony of sounds from the grocery store dims, becoming further and further away until it is almost silence.

The moments before your death do not bring with it the movie stream of images from your life.

_You lie in your bed on the morning of your father's funeral, barely a year earlier. She lies facing you, watching you. _

_A single question has resonated in your head for over a week now, and you felt it unworthy of voicing. Yet on this morning it finally becomes necessary._

"_What do you think happens at the end?" you ask. _

_She smiles, glad that you are finally able to talk about your father's death instead of pretending that your world is as it has always been._

"_I used to believe that death was finality. But when my grandfather died… I saw his body at the funeral and the very thing that made him him – his soul if you want – had gone. All that was left was a body and nothingness. And I decided that death can't be the end. I think that we watch over those we left behind, maybe among the living, maybe from some other place. When it's our time to go, I think we find those who went before us."_

_She strokes your arm reassuringly as she talks and her voice soothes you. And her words give you some comfort and hope. But the reality is that you can't cope with mortality. Your father's death has shocked you, shaken you to the core as you realise that at least on this earth there is finality._

"_Promise me something, promise me that you'll never leave me," you plead._

_She brings you closer to her, kisses your cheek._

"_I can't promise you that. We all die and we can't choose who goes first. But I promise you this: if I go before you, I'll watch over you and wait for you. And at the end, I'll do everything I can to be with you. And then, we'll have eternity." She pauses, tries to make lighter of the moment. "Or at least until I find some 3000 year old Greek God to make me immortal and then maybe I'll go take over the world."_

_You smile slightly, pulling her closer. You breathe in the scent of her hair, trying to remember this feeling forever in case the worst happens. The lump in your throat builds up and your emotions threaten to overwhelm you._

_She draws you into her embrace and for this moment you feel safe. "Promise me that you'll remember how to live if I do go," she says quietly as if it is something she has been thinking about for a while. _

"_I love you," you tell her. "I love you so much." _

You struggle briefly with consciousness. Light fades into darkness and you are no longer aware of the people surrounding you.

There is still pain. But you don't know whether the pain is from the bullet or from unhealed injuries. Or even from the emotional pain that has surrounded you since she went.

And then even the pain starts to subside, bringing with it numbness and a feeling of being disconnected from your surroundings.

_You are at your mother's home, weeks after your life was ripped apart, and you are glad that you never verbalised that promise to Michelle because you have no idea how you might have kept it._

_You sit watching the rain tumble from the sky through the window. You have been sat there an indeterminate amount of time. Lately time means nothing to you._

_You hear a noise behind you and you attempt to turn to see its origin. Pain overcomes you; your injuries will take still longer to heal. _

"_Tony," your mother's voice calls to you and you attempt to pull yourself out from the darkness. "I've made you some soup," she continues. You nod briefly in acknowledgement. _

_She places the soup on the table in front of you, sits down next to you. "It's still raining?" she asks unnecessarily. _

"_Yeah," you respond._

_You sit in silence for a while, both lost in thought._

"_Tony," your mother starts, and you finally look at her. She places a hand on your arm. "Do you remember what you said to me before your father's funeral?" _

_You shake your head, unable to take yourself back to that time. "You smiled and told me what Michelle had told you: that it was okay, because Dad was still looking out for us. And that one day, when the time was right, we'd meet him again." She smiles nostalgically. "I asked how you could be so sure, and you looked over at Michelle and told me that it had to be true." _

_You smile slightly, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you remember. _

"_Do you believe it?" you ask._

"_I have to believe it. And so do you. It's the only thing that keeps us sane, that helps us fight through the pain."_

"_You really think that at the end dad will be there waiting for you?" you ask. _

"_Yes." She pauses for a moment. "But while you're waiting, you have to try to keep living. And that's the hard part."_

Recently you'd started trying to move on. Michelle had asked you a lifetime ago to remember how to live and while you never promised you feel that if she was going to keep her half of the bargain you should try your best. It has been difficult as hell, but you'd started to get the knack.

As your heart slows down, you hope that she remembers her promise.

And then, at 11:23am on a sunny Tuesday morning, your body stops fighting to live.

And there is relief, and there is peace, and there is an answer.

* * *

End. 


End file.
